


Art Therapy

by Animercom



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Bonding over art, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Therapy, Post Killing Game, virtual simulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animercom/pseuds/Animercom
Summary: Four months after a virtual killing game simulation, Rantaro carries the guilt of losing his sisters, making him feel useless. Angie struggles to find inspiration to paint again. When Rantaro spies how exhausted Angie's become, he's determined to help, although doing so means revealing some secrets of his own.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro & Yonaga Angie
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	Art Therapy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirastrations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirastrations/gifts).



> This was written for my dear friend Kira as a late birthday, thank you, and Christmas present! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write and post my V3 works, for always being so encouraging and sweet, and being a totally awesome person and friend! ^_^
> 
> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, everyone!! I hope you all enjoy it!

Rantaro opened the classroom door. Exotic blankets covered the walls, enveloping the room like a cocoon. Burning candles emitted a warm glow. A stereo played music with chimes and intoning monks. Ultimates sat on cushions placed along the walls, their heads bowed and eyes closed. Angie knelt at the head of the room, praying silently.

Four months had passed since Hope’s Peak forced the ultimates to enter a killing game virtual simulation. Instead of graduating, the students remained on campus, completing therapy programs led by Miaya, Chisa, and Koichi. Angie had repurposed the classroom into a meditation reflection space. Students came and left whenever they wished.

Rantaro sat down on a square pillow. He glanced around. Hiro held his head in his hands. Nagito blankly stared at a candle’s flame. In the back where the desks were pushed aside, Himiko and Kokichi whispered to each other. Rantaro raised a brow. _Kokichi? He’s only been here a few times._

In the past few months the leader had turned to doodling and drawing to cope. Himiko retained her passion for magic; a rarity. Most students’ outlets were unrelated to their ultimate talents. Within the virtual simulation, everyone was encouraged to use their talent to murder – and some had.

_Bam!_

Someone punched the floor. Rantaro jumped. Mondo slammed his fist down again. He grit his teeth. Tears slid down his face.

Angie walked over, knelt, and enveloped Mondo in a hug. He didn’t move. “There, there, Mondo. You do not need to beat yourself up so. You possess such wonderful passion and a big heart. And yes, that passion can destroy. But it can also create. Your carpentry pieces are beautiful works of art. Divinely inspired. So do not be so harsh on yourself. Forgive yourself as Atua and I already have.” 

Mondo sucked in a sharp breath. Gripped Angie’s shoulder like she was a lifeline. Humming, Angie rubbed his back up and down as he cried. After a few minutes, Mondo released her.

Angie slowly stood, grimacing as if in pain. Rantaro glimpsed her face. Pale. Bloodshot eyes with dark bangs beneath them. She wasn’t wearing a belt of artistic tools. Nor was paint or clay caking her fingers like they usually do. Rantaro frowned.

Someone hiccupped. Breath hitching, Mikan furiously wiped at her face.

Smiling, Angie glided over. Hugged Mikan tightly. “It will be okay, Mikan. Atua is a merciful and welcoming god. Just as you must be with yourself. Forgive and accept yourself. You are a wonderfully brilliant and capable person…”

Over Mikan’s shoulder, Rantaro saw Angie. The artist hung her head as she spoke, bangs hiding her face.

Jaw clenched, Rantaro balled his fist. _This ends now._

* * *

“Angie, wait!”

Angie came to a stop on the stone pathway to the central plaza. Smiling, she turned around, arms open wide. “Oh, Rantaro! Have you come seeking Atua’s wise counsel?”

Panting, Rantaro caught up with the artist. “Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Angie.”

“Of course, of course!”

The two reclined on a bench on the edge of the plaza. Water gurgled from the two-tier fountain before them. Bushes bordered the circular pathway around the fountain. A few ultimates talked quietly as they passed through the courtyard’s sidewalks. Small, bushy trees lined the pathways.

Angie tilted her head, silver hair blowing in the wind. “What is it that you desire from Atua? If you pray hard enough, I’m sure he will grant your–”

“I’m worried about you.” Rantaro laid a hand on the bench close to Angie. “Your meditation sessions are very soothing. Everyone has stopped by tons of times since the… since the simulation. But you need to take care of yourself. You can’t pour from an empty vessel, y’know?”

Closing her eyes, Angie placed her hands over her heart. “It’ll be okay. I am fine. I must fulfill my divine duty of helping everyone–”

“Meditating six hours every day is _not_ okay.”

“If only I could devote my every waking hour to him.”

“And what about your painting and sculpting?”

Looking away, Angie threaded her fingers through a ponytail. “Atua guides my hands while creating. He inspires me.”

Rantaro crossed his arms. “So you haven’t heard Atua lately, have you?”

Angie hung her head. Her bangs shielded her eyes.

 _Oh no,_ Rantaro thought, wincing. _I went too far. She’s going to give me one of her scary looks and say I spoke blasphemy, isn’t she?_

Voice raw, Angie spoke. “For months I haven’t sensed Atua’s presence. Not since the game of death. Again and again I’ve put my brush to the canvas, but no divine inspiration manifests itself. Am I unworthy? Too much of a sinner to capture this world’s beauty?” Angie balled a fist over her chest, bending over slightly. “These are the questions I ask him during my meditation sessions. Those sessions are for myself not the others. Of everyone, I’m the most selfish. The most given into her greedy desires.”

“Angie…” Rantaro shook his head. “Listen. You still want to make art, right? Wanting to do what you love isn’t selfish. And you don’t need to hear Atua’s voice to paint or draw. Just give a draft your best go, all right? Do what you enjoy, whether or not you hear Atua–”

Angie launched to her feet. Her eyes flashed. “Do not presume to tell me what I feel. What I should do. You don’t understand. I am Atua’s oracle. His vessel. And an oracle who can’t hear Atua’s wisdom is useless.” Angie nodded to herself. “Yes. They should be discarded like a misshapen lump of pottery.” Turning away, Angie hugged herself. “But then who will show everyone the sweetness of a person’s smile? The serenity of sun warming the sand on the beach? Who will Atua speak to now? Atua… he gets so very lonely…”

The wind rustled the tree branches. Fountain water gurgled. But no birds sang or students chatted – the air was still. Waiting. 

Rantaro exhaled. “Maybe I can relate. Just a little.”

“Huh?” Angie sat down uncomfortably close to Rantaro on the bench. “How could you? How could you?”

Inhaling deeply, Rantaro leaned back on the bench. He stared up at the sky. A few wispy clouds drifted past. “See, I’ve got a lot of younger sisters. Twelve to be exact. They’d always be following me around, tackling me with hugs and stuff. Rope me into helping them paint their nails…” Exhaling, Rantaro closed his eyes. Smiled. “But… I’ve been a pretty useless brother.

“During my trips around the world, they all got separated from me and my parents. No one’s… not a one has come back.” Sucking a big breath, Rantaro ran his hands through his hair. “A big brother’s supposed to look after their little sisters, right? But I failed them.”

Angie clasped her hands together. “So on your adventures across the globe, you search for them, yes? I see, I see! I shall pray for your success. May Atua watch over you and send his blessings.”

Rantaro blinked. “You’re not gonna tell me to give up?”

“No, no! Yours is a holy quest to rescue the lost.” Leaning forward, Angie pressed a finger on Rantaro’s chest. Her sea-green eyes pierced him in place. “You’re not useless. You’re the most super-duper determined, strongest person here at the academy!”

Rantaro raised his hands. “Whoa there! What? I couldn’t possibly be the strongest. C’mon.”

Sighing, Angie looked towards the classroom buildings in the distance. “So many of our classmates have confessed to me they’ve lost their faith in themselves. Their ultimate talents. And their talents are their life’s goals. Their greatest passion and dream.” Clapping her hands, Angie leaned to the side. “But you have never wavered! You’ve kept your sight on your goal even after undergoing the trials of the killing game. So do not feel guilty. You never gave up on them. Never stopped believing.” Angie winked. “Anyone who told you to stop searching are the guilty ones.”

Lips parted, Rantaro stared at her. His eyes burned. “I never thought… That’s really something.”

“Ayup!” beamed Angie. “And once you’re all reunited, I’m sure you’ll have loads of fun together again. Having a large family sounds lovely. Reminds me of my island.” Humming, Angie tapped a finger to her lips. “Although no one ever hugged me before.”

“Because you’re a divine oracle, right? No one gets too close to you.”

Angie narrowed her eyes. After a tense moment, the fire in her eyes dimmed. In the distance the school bell rang. The bell, once a signal for classes, marked the beginning of group therapy activities.

Rantaro placed his hand on Angie’s knee. “When you make art, create it in Atua’s name. But also add your own personal touch and feelings. That way, when you share your art to others, they can learn more about you and Atua. Make connections with others, Angie.”

She turned away, looking down at the grass. “I don’t know if I’ll ever paint again.”

Rantaro shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see my sisters again, but, hey, I still gotta try.”

Angie studied the adventurer in the corner of her eye. After a moment, they both smiled.

* * *

Rantaro entered the central plaza, heading to the cafe for breakfast. Groaning, Rantaro rubbed at his face. Whenever he closed his eyes, a vision of a girl’s body flashed. _That same nightmare of finding my sister dead… When am I going to find them so I can be happy again?_

“Yahoo! Rantarooo!”

He blinked.

Angie stood before the fountain, waving an arm overhead like crazy. Next to her was a large easel covered in a white cloth.

Eyes wide, Rantaro slowed to a stop. “Is that…?”

Hands behind her back, Angie rocked back on her heels. “You see, Rantaro. Atua guides me to create art that shows the world’s beauty, yes? And what could be more beautiful than…” Angie yanked off the white cloak.

Rantaro gasped. His hands flew to his face.

There stood a painting of Rantaro being hugged by his younger sisters. Warm, slightly blurred colors. Laughing lines by their eyes. Large beaming smiles. Rantaro’s arms around as many of his sisters he could possibly hold.

Rantaro sucked in a sharp breath. Tears spilled onto his cheeks.

Smiling, Angie folded her hands in prayer. “Nothing could be more beautiful than the story of you searching for your family.”

Rantaro swallowed hard. Cleared his throat. “Angie, you didn’t have to…”

Angie shook her head. “I painted this because _I_ wanted to. And I’m sure it made Atua happy too.” Tucking a strand behind an ear, Angie gazed back at the painting. “Mahiru can make a wallet-sized printout for you to carry with you as your journey. That way they’ll always be with you. Nyahaha!”

Rantaro seized Angie in a hug. “Thank you…” he choked. “Thank you so much.”

Angie froze. Then she squeezed him tightly, humming. “You gifted me the passion of art again. So thank you, Rantaro, for inspiring my wayward self.” She laughed. “Just make sure you don’t get so absorbed in finding your sisters that you don’t appreciate the sun setting over a mountain range. Or feel peace standing before a waterfall.”

“I won’t forget. And this time, I swear that’s a promise I’ll keep.”

“I have every faith in you, Rantaro. Keep pursuing what you love no matter what difficulties you face, and you’ll be all right. You’ll be just fine.”


End file.
